Mon Angleterre
by Darkerose
Summary: After yet another lost battle, France thinks back on one of the more comforting moments he shared with England after the American revolution. Contains a little fluff at the end : No flames please.


**A/N: Okay first of all... Hi ^^ ...Reviews are **_**very**_** much appreciated as this is my first ever fic :) Constructive criticism is welcomed but flames are not. I also apologise in advance for the ending XD kinda' ran out of ideas! Not really a set time frame but I based it around the time of the Napoleonic wars.**

**I don't have a beta so all mistakes are mine and french translations are at the bottom of the page. **

**DISClAIMER: Sadly, Hetalia does not belong to me *holds back tears* So I have to make do with writing Fan Fictions on the internet. Yay! Now, on with the train wreak that is my FrUk story!**

**Please R/R! **

The slightly cold wind blew the blond hair out of the blue ribbon that was holding it in place and sent his royal blue coat billowing behind him . Piercing blue eyes scanned the long empty battle field. Franḉes was use to losing battles by now, but that didn't he would stop trying to win against Arthur.

_Arthur..._

France stood and thought about the English man for a moment. Britain's messy, windswept hair blowing around his face and piercing green eyes calculating every battle he fought. Even his abnormal eyebrows were doing nothing to quail his beauty, maybe even adding to It in Frances opinion. They didn't call him the Great British Empire for nothing. France let out a sharp breath that he didn't even know he was holding.

Just as he was about to turn around he heard footsteps making their way towards him on the uneven ground. Turning completely around, he was met by the personification of the Great British Empire striding towards him himself, with a grin on his face like the Cheshire cat.

"Hey, frog face!" England called out stopping when he was a only few feet away. France looked at the distance between them and thought of how many steps it would take him to get to Arthur. Not many, he calculated. A little plan was taking form in the Parisian mans mind.

" Why are you out here on your own. I thought that you would have been going back to France on a boat called the 'loser'." England said in a mocking tone and a smirk on his face.

_Ouch!_

Well what did he expect from his England? _Mon Angleterre..?_ France thought. He gave up hope of that ever happening after the American revolution. But maybe there was still a chance that it could have happened even then...

_{...flash back...}_

_... The rain was pouring down to the earth, covering his designer boots in water and thick mud, splashing onto his trousers while he walked in the empty field. the rain was so heavy it was like a blanket of mist preventing France from where he was going. so much so that he almost tripped over what he assumed was an old log. it was only until the log whimpered underfoot that what he had accidently kicked was not in fact a log but a very wet, muddy and tear stained England. France widened his __Cerulean __blue eyes for a moment before swooping down and gathering the dripping wet British empire into his arms and holding him close and rocking him gently, trying to calm him. being roused from his stupor, England started quietly sobbing again. Still trying to calm the sobbing nation, France started whispering soothing words in French into his ear before he heard England mumbling though his tears and France's shirt._

_"Why? why did you help him...how could...how could you do this to me?" England tried hitting France's chest but the way France held him made it impossible for him to get a good hit in and fatigue had already settled in long before France found him in the mud. so, he opted instead to lift his head to locking his piercing green eyes with France's blue ones. looking into his eyes France was paralyzed by the hurt, anger and sorrow swimming in those green depths. reluctantly France found the will to make his lips move to form words._

_"Arthur..." France placed his hand on the back of England's head and pushed it onto his chest so he could rest his chin on top England's head._

_"Arthur...you knew that this would happen...you knew that one day America would want independence. I sided with him because... because he is strong enough to take care of himself." France tightened his grip around England's back._

_"Je suis désolé mon Anglterre. But he isn't that child anymore" France moved his hand from the back of England's head and placed two fingers underneath his chin, lifting his head so England was once again looking into his eyes._

_"Je suis désolé." France breathed against England's lips almost touching. France wanted to...oh, how he wanted to capture the Brits lips in his own. But, he thought, that would be too much for the fragile English man. giving a regretful sigh he pulled away from England and stood up. for a moment Arthur thought that France was going to walk away and leave him in the field. Getting ready to curl himself back up he was shocked when a hand enclosed his own, pulling him up out of the mud._

_"Ohonhonhon Britain, did you really think that little of me to leave you." France said with a smirk._

_"S-Shut up you French git" England replied trying to look anywhere except France's eyes."And let go of my hand already" France laughed and wrapped his arm around England shoulders instead although he was relieved that England was at least acting how he was before the revolution._

_"so cold hearted Angleterre, you wound me! Now let's get you out of those wet cloths, I don't want to have to take care of you if you catch the flu Mon petit lapin."_

_"Like I'm letting you get me out of anything bloody French Pervert" England's face turned a light shade of pink_

_. "A-and France...T-thank you." England looked away again France didn't know whether Arthur was ashamed of being in gratitude to the Frenchman or that if he had shown weakness in front of his self-proclaimed enemy. _

_France pulled him closer again via arm around his shoulder and started walking back from where he'd come with Arthur by his side. somewhere along their heart filled conversation the rain had stopped and little rays of sun were filtering through the clouds._

_"pas de probléme. I don't mind..."_

_{...End flashback...}_

That was one of the more tender moments they had ever shared. Back then he didn't want to push Arthur further when he wanted to kiss him. France doubted that England even remembered the look in Frances eyes when his face was so close to his. but now... now there was nothing holding France back from taking England into his arms again.

"Well come on you French git tell me! Don't think I'll pity you for losing if you-"

" I do not want your pity Angleterre," France said moving swiftly to where England was standing. England made to take a step back when he felt a hand encircle his back preventing him from moving any further.

"W-what the bloody hell do you think you're doing!? Get off me this instant!" Arthur tried in vain to push France away. For a nation who was famous for surrendering he was surprisingly strong much to England's dismay. Instead of trying to struggle away, Arthur tried to land a punch on France's grinning face. Before fist had a chance to meet face, France grabbed the clenched hand in a vice like grip pulling England _even_ closer until they were mere centimetres apart.

"I don't want your pity Arthur. I want something _much_ more appealing" France whispered like the country of love he is, before capturing England's lips in his own. For a few seconds Arthur didn't respond. France was afraid that England thought that he was trying to pull something on him, that he was trying to get back at him for winning. Those thoughts where soon brushed away when he felt Arthur melt into the kiss just as passionately.

France softly ran his tongue along Britain's bottom lip, asking for entrance which Arthur granted almost without a second thought. England felt he was in bliss. If one of his soldiers had told him a few hours ago that he was going to be kissing his worst enemy and _enjoying it_, Arthur would have sent him back to the camp for being drunk on duty.

France was also in a state of complete bliss. This was better than what he could have ever thought possible. The feeling of Arthur surrendering to him in the form of a kiss made it even more amazing. even though the kiss only lasted for a few minutes they each regrettably had to pull away from each other for a large gulp of breath.

When France pulled away he took in the dazzling image that was, Arthur Kirkland. His hair was messier than usual. His cheeks had the most adorable red hue to them and his eyes were half lidded as they both pulled away for breath. France being France, took advantage of Britain's dazed state to lean down again and press a light, chaste kiss on England's slightly parted mouth.

_"Je t'aime, mon petit lapin."_ he whispered breathlessly to the dazed Englishman.

Arthur pulled away slightly to look for any sign of deceit on the Parisian man's face. When he saw nothing but truth in the Frenchman's eyes he allowed defeat for the only time by whispering back to the hopeful nation.

"I l-love you too... b-but don't expect me to say it whenever you want me to f-frog!"

France chuckled at England, pulling the now protesting Brit into a tight embrace. He didn't care about the protesting though, he now knew it was an act. Arthur had he loved him back, Something he never thought he would hear from the Brit. Something so simple yet it meant so much to them both. France held Arthur even closer and whispered softly in his ear -

"_Mon Angleterre..."_

**It's over! :D Again, please read and review, I need feedback on what I need to improve :)**

**Translations: **

**Anglterre - England**

**Je suis désolé mon Anglterre - I'm sorry my England**

**Je suis désolé - I'm sorry**

**pas de probléme - It's no problem**

**Mon petit lapin -My little bunny**

**Je t'aime - I love you **

**Mon Angleterre - My England**


End file.
